fire|🔥|نار

feisty, fervid & all-consuming


All hushed and still within the house;
Without – all wind and driving rain;
But something whispers to my mind,
Through rain and through the wailing wind,
Never again.
Never again? Why not again?
Memory has power as real as thine.


Emily Brontë

Simonetta and Dante


I never really came alive until,
I more or less died —
I’d floated along by hushed breeze and sail
I’d slept whilst they rowed.
You’d emerged in a place so far away
You’d grown in harsh heat —
You felt real thunder and deep disarray
You searched hard for light.
We locked eyes and made our haven from all
We found our true selves
We then got split, but vowed this bond won’t quell
We’ll find by inked delves. . .

Simonetta_and_Dante___colour
“Simonetta Vespucci as Nymph” (c. 1480) and “Dante Alighieri” (c. 1495)
by Sandro Botticelli (c. 1445–1510).

“The Birth of Venus”
by Sandro Botticelli (c. 1445–1510) (c. 1485) @ The Uffizi Gallery, Florence.
“Primavera”
Left to right: Mercury, the Three Graces, Venus, Flora, Chloris, Zephyrus
by Sandro Botticelli (c. 1445–1510) (c. 1482) @ The Uffizi Gallery, Florence.
“Venus and Mars”
by Sandro Botticelli (c. 1445–1510) (c. 1485) @ The National Gallery, London.


Literature — art at its most sublime.


“Pallas and the Centaur”
by Sandro Botticelli (c. 1445–1510) (c. 1482) @ The Uffizi Gallery, Florence.

Now I don’t pretend to know much ado about nothing but Pallas is meant to be a Greek God, one of the Titans: a male. A centaur is a mythical half man half horse and thus, male too. So, who’s the lady depicted in the picture above? My inept investigations took me via a typo from the mythical Titan to the Italian painter Titian (a.k.a., Tiziano Vecellio) (c. 1488–1576) who also painted Venus (et al.). . .

Tiziano_-_Venere_di_Urbino
“Venus of Urbino”
by Titian (1534) @ The Uffizi Gallery, Florence.
Self-Portrait, c. 1567; @ The Museo del Prado, Madrid
Self-Portrait
by Titian (c. 1567) @ The Museo del Prado, Madrid.

. . .who lest we forget is the god of Love (the subject of this posting). Titian, incidentally and interestingly was called by his contemporaries, “The Sun Amidst Small Stars” (which is the last line of Dante’s (see ^ up) poem Paradiso), According to the art scholar Gloria Fossi (2000) Titian’s technique of the application and usage of colour has had a profound influence on Western art. From Titian I got to Bronzino (a.k.a., Agnolo di Cosimo) (1503–1572), well because, he also painted Venus (et al.) and like Titian was of the Venetian school. . .

Angelo_Bronzino_-_Venus,_Cupid,_Folly_and_Time_-_National_Gallery,_London
“Venus, Cupid, Folly and Time”
by Bronzino (c. 1544) @ The National Gallery, London.
. . . they say Bronzino’s somewhat elongated figures always appear to be calm and a little too reserved (i.e., lacking the agitation and emotion of those painted by some others) and believe it or not I sensed that in her fingers and in the leggy long-backed cheeky cherub. Well from there I found my way to Western painting (hovering over the link on the Bronzino page I saw a pic of the girl with the pearl…) and just had to see what was included in this, the people’s canon:

Hercules_&_telephus
Ancient Roman wall art, artist unknown (c. 6 BCE – 9), prosaically titled: “Herakles finds his son Telephos” @ The National Museum, Naples.
— this mural depicts the discovery of the child Telephos by his father, Herakles. Telephos, a minor figure mentioned in Trojan War stories (painted here being suckled by a doe). To the left sits a colossal personification of Arcadia, an impressive female figure who stares off into the distance (oh yeah, that ‘far-away-stare’ look). Follow the lion’s gaze, see where the lightening rod is striking (air-brushed out or added as a salacious afterthought?), see the udder suckling and the tender fawning of the knee…

Meisje met de parel
“The eyes”
by Johannes Vermeer (1632–1675), titled: “Girl with a Pearl Earring” (c. 1669) @ The Mauritshuis, The Hague, Holland.
— sometimes referred to as the Mona Lisa of the North… oh wow, you see into my soul don’t you. You, the finest pear of pearls the waters of the Persian Gulf ever did relinquish to the arid surrounds of the oasis of the soul.
soul meets soul
“The bum”
by Jean Auguste Dominique Ingres (1780–1867), titled: “The Valpinçon Bather” (1808) @ The Musée du Louvre, Paris.
— I didn’t get it at first but this is the chap who got titillated by notions of the Orient.*  Oh Edward Saïd! Oh Wilfred Thesiger!
The_Kiss_-_Gustav_Klimt_-_Google_Cultural_Institute
“The kiss”
by Gustav Klimt (1862–1918), titled: “The Kiss” (c. 1907) @ Österreichische Galerie Belvedere, Vienna.
— it certainly once, A3 sized and lovingly laminated, hung above the very epitome of my very own Delta of Venus (a.k.a. the Nymph of Nizwa).
Grant_Wood_-_American_Gothic_-_Google_Art_Project
“The connotation and the implication”
by Grant Wood (1891–1942), titled: “American Gothic” (1930) @ the Art Institute of Chicago.
— don’t dig, in this instance ignorance is bliss.


Literature — art at its most sublime.


NOTES

*   Orientalismus and them — who am I? who r U? Ways of Escape, wanting to be somewhere (anywhere?) other than here, but here’s not a geographic location, it’s a mindset that cannot, I fear, be vacated until the end of days. Ingres, who evidently had a penchant for the Orient, painted these paintings also:

“Odalisque with Slave” (L’Odalisque à l’esclave) **
by Jean Auguste Dominique Ingres (1780–1867) (1839) @ Fogg Museum, Boston.
“La Grande Odalisque”
by Jean Auguste Dominique Ingres (1780–1867) (1814) @ Musée du Louvre, Paris.
Hard to marry such colour and enchantment with this photograph of Ingres; yet in the self-portrait said to be by him in his 78th year, I detect an amazing head of youthful hair and a hint of a cheeky flair:

Jean Auguste Dominique Ingres
“Self-Portrait at Seventy-Eight”
by Jean Auguste Dominique Ingres (1780–1867) (1858) @ The Uffizi Gallery, Florence.
sketches by Jean Auguste Dominique Ingres
“Look into my eyes, look into my eyes, don’t look around the eyes, look into the eyes”
Sketches by Jean Auguste Dominique Ingres. (1780–1867)

**   An odalisque (اوطه‌لق) was said to be a, hmm, let us say ‘chambermaid’ in the time of the Ottoman empire. And on I’m driven to forage and dig, an internet hunter and gatherer am I. I subscribe to this self-imposed penitence, relentless is the yearn, incessant is the burn, bereft of zest, I am. So here (the anonymous) you(s) go:

“Odalisque”
by Jules Lefebvre (1834–1911) (1874) @ Art Institute of Chicago.

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Author: Anna Bidoonism

You'll find poems, prose & literary analysis on my blog -- this is who I am.